


Shotgun Gunshot

by apollos



Series: all the times in-between [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Crossdressing, Genderplay, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Missing Scene, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-11 07:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20542433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apollos/pseuds/apollos
Summary: Meditations on The Thong. Missing scene for 5x08, "Paddy's Pub: Home of the Original Kitten Mittens."





	Shotgun Gunshot

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sure this has been done before ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ tw for mac and dennis being weird about gender and sex (as usual.) first in a series of, uh, basically porn missing scenes & codas as i watch the show.

Frank closes the door, they discuss the gunshot idea for two seconds (verdict: totally awesome) and then Dennis turns to Mac and says, "I want to get back to the thong situation."

"Eh?" Mac cocks his head. "Thought we were going with the gunshot, bro. I mean, it's totally awesome—"

"No, no, no." Dennis shakes his head and a finger at the same time, back and forth like a clock keeping time. "I mean, did it work?"

"Did what work?"

"The thong!" Dennis turns around again, lifts his shirt up, sticks his ass out in that cartoonish impression of a coquette ingenue. He throws his head back over at Mac, all doe eyes and pursed lips. "Does it, you know? Turn you on?"

Unfortunately, yes. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Cool." Dennis switches his body back around, shirt dropping down, and though the idea of Dennis's cock all trapped up inside that tiny thong—not to mention sliding through the crack of ass—gets Mac twisted up, he likes this Dennis better, broad shouldered and looking at Mac with clear intention in his eyes. "So you wanna bang?"

"Well, duh." Mac takes his shirt and kicks his shoes off, needing no more prompting. He stops Dennis when Dennis starts unbuttoning his shirt, pulls him close by the collar. It rips a little, and Dennis starts to complain, but Mac shoves his mouth against Dennis's before he can go any further. Dennis does have such a pretty mouth; shame to waste it by bitching Mac out, and not sucking his dick. (Mac would never say that out loud. Not sure he actually believes it, but, he's hard in his jeans already, and sometimes being horny is worse than being drunk.)

He walks Dennis back until they hit the couch, then pushes Dennis down, letting the kiss break. Spit hangs off Dennis's fat bottom lip, his or Mac's, doesn't matter, but _fuck_, he really does look like a whore. Mac straddles Dennis's lap, keeping his feet planted on the ground, and undoes the buttons on his shirts. "Chicks' shirts button the other way, did you know that?" he asks.

Dennis screws his face up at him. "I'm not a chick."

"Really? 'Cause you're wearing a thong." Mac smiles and dips his fingers in the hem of Dennis's jeans, grabbing ahold of the string that rests in the dip between his thighs and his abdomen—he really does have that thing riding high, stretching taught with the erection developing.

"Men can wear thongs," Dennis says. "You ever see a man in a g-string swimsuit? A jockstrap? A male stripper? I know you have. It shows the male form, excellent. You should be appreciating this more, really."

"I appreciate it _plenty_, dude." Mac grabs Dennis's cock through his jeans as he says so. He needs to get Dennis worked to the point of practically bursting, he _needs _to see the results.

"You could do better on your knees."

"I don't think so." Mac moves his finger back and forth, just like Dennis had done earlier, and Dennis grabs Mac's hand and takes it into his mouth. Mac stills for a second. It's always such a surprise, but it shouldn't be, really—Mac learned about Dennis's oral fixation about three days after meeting him, and there's nothing Mac loves in this world more than Dennis's pretty mouth. (That is true; and he loves the things that come out of it, too, but he pushes that aside, because, like, _feelings _and shit? No. Back to the dicks.)

It hurts Mac deeply, but he pulls his hand away from Dennis's mouth to finish undressing him. Dennis arches his back to aid him in this, and again Mac thinks, _like a chick_, but it's Dennis, and really just Dennis driving him wild. They've been together too long. They know which buttons to push.

Shirt out of the way—both shirts, and why the fuck does Dennis wear _two _shirts, anyway—and Mac starts kissing him again, pressing their chests together. He relishes in the slight scrape of Dennis's chest hair, even more so when Dennis wraps his arms around his back, squeezes. Mac reaches his hand down between them, grabs Dennis through his jeans again, but takes his hand away when Dennis tries to lead him to his fly. "Not yet."

"Jesus, Mac," Dennis says, breaking the kiss and mumbling it into his mouth. "Are we just gonna dry hump like a coupl'a high schoolers?"

Mac smiles, dry humping days fondly remembered. He shakes his head against Dennis, letting their noses bump together in some cutesy, embarrassing way. "Wanna last," he says, kissing down Dennis's jaw. "Wanna punish you."

"Punish?" Dennis scoffs, though the last syllable dies in his throat as Mac's head keeps working his way down, down to Dennis's nipples. Mac pops one in his mouth, sucks, and Dennis's fingers go into Mac's hair, pulling. Hard. Too hard for just this alone.

"Mmm." Mac pulls off one nipple, kisses his way across Dennis's chest to the other one. "Acting like that, and shit."

He waits for some comeback while he works Dennis's right nipple, biting just ever so slightly, licking the length of his pec. None comes, just a high, reedy whine in Dennis's throat, and Mac's grinning like a teenage boy about to get some for the first time. He settles his hands on Dennis's waist. Dennis has a trim waist; Mac's hands look huge on it, tan against Dennis's pale skin. Dennis covers Mac's hand on him, keeps them there, running his hands over his knuckles. "Strong," he mutters.

"Fuck yeah." Mac leaves a single kiss in the center of Dennis's chest before coming to his mouth again. He's so hard, he wants to _fuck _already, but this is too good, and he's feeling like he's teetering on something, like on the next chapter of his life, or of his sex life with Dennis, or some weird shit like that. And what's worse: Mac loves kissing Dennis. He loves sucking his tongue into his mouth and biting along his bottom lip and the way Dennis always tastes a little like beer, but like _good _beer, cold beer on a summer's day while you're watching reruns of an old favorite show with your friends. He loves sliding his hands up and down Dennis's sides, loves how Dennis follows him, squeezes their fingers together. (It's more than just making out, really.)

Dennis takes his hands off Mac's and Mac groans, but he's going to Mac's fly, and Mac can live with that. He pushes them down, past Mac's ass, and cups one hand around Mac's balls—heavy, tight—and another around his dick—heavy, hard. "You're so hard, bro," Dennis moans, appreciatively.

"Yeah," Mac says. "S're you."

"Yeah." Dennis breathes; Mac opens his mouth, like they're shotgunning. That air, hanging between them, humid with their saliva and their arousal. Mac jerks in Dennis's hand, Dennis running a fingertip over the slit of Mac's cock.

"Wanna see." Mac lifts himself from Dennis, stepping out of his pants in the process (and toeing off his socks, too, because being naked with your socks on is the worst.) He's so excited he's shaking, as ready to reveal what's inside of Dennis's jeans as any present he's ever opened. He unzips them slowly and even closes his eyes as he rolls the fabric down Dennis's thighs—Dennis groans, tight jeans against his skin, a little too rough, Mac knows he loves it—and then Mac looks at his handiwork.

Dennis's cock stretches the cheap, white fabric of the thong, precome turning nearly the entire thing translucent. The strings press into his skin hard enough to leave little marks. Mac groans, lowers his head just to nuzzle Dennis's cock, feeling the wetness coat his cheeks. "Better," he says. "Better than a chick. Really."

"'Cause you're gay," Dennis says, and it's not the best retort he's ever given Mac but his eyes are rolled up in his head and he's only still because Mac's hands are in the juncture between thigh and crotch, his fingers sliding under the strings of the thong so tight they feel they're about to snap. Mac breathes in deep again, nearly tasting Dennis on his tongue, and then sits back on his heels.

"Here's what we're gonna do." He reaches behind them and grabs the bottle of lotion on the coffee table (who do they have to hide from, really? Themselves?) and slicks up two of his fingers. "We're gonna fuck."

"Really?" Dennis injects his voice with as much fake surprise as he can muster.

"Ha, ha." Mac pulls Dennis forward a little, getting him at a better angle. He sneaks his hand behind, moves the part of the thong up Dennis's ass aside so he can replace it with his fingers. Dennis gasps, first at the removal of the fabric, and then at the insertion of Mac's fingers. (Two; if he wears the goddamn thong, he can take this right off the back. And they fucked earlier this morning, in the shower, under the guise of saving money by saving water, or something.) "We're keeping the thong on," he says.

"Oh." Mac looks up at Dennis's face to see his eyes shut and his mouth puckered in, sucking on his own teeth. Mac crooks his fingers and lets pride fill his chest as Dennis jerks. He places his mouth over the head of Dennis's cock, sucks through the fabric, and Dennis is keening in the way that means he's about to come so Mac pulls his mouth off and his fingers out.

While Mac slicks up his own cock Dennis pulls his legs up, leaning his head against the arm of the couch. He grabs around his own thighs, lifting his legs up to give Mac the best possible angle, and Mac lets out a long, heavy breath: white thong doing its best to contain Dennis, ruined with precoma and lube, hanging to the side of his hole, hole raw and pink. Mac wants to profess love, but instead he positions himself the best he can, one foot on the floor and the other—somewhere, knee bent, and he wraps his arm and leans his head against Dennis's thigh and starts thrusting.

Dennis makes the most delectable noises when Mac fucks him like this, noises Mac has never heard in the sex tapes not featuring him. It always makes Mac pound faster, harder, a man possessed and levitating outside of himself. He licks up and down Dennis's thigh, bites into the skin there, wanting to leave bruises. With the hand not bearing his weight he grabs Dennis's cock through the thong, a full open palm grasp, designed just to feel it more than to work it, but Dennis comes like a shotgun, globs spurting through the fabric and between Mac's fingers. Dennis screams, his head tipping up, veins red in his forehead, and Mac squeezes again, leaning far enough into Dennis to stretch those supple muscles in his thighs, unloading with a long, deep growl from somewhere in his stomach, as if his vocal chords and his cock have become just one long nerve.

Then it's the slow untangling of limbs, configuring themselves into something somewhat comfortable—Mac leaning between Dennis's leg, resting his head on his stomach, one of Dennis's heels on his back and the other on the floor. The couch is too small for two grown men. Mac doesn't care, just holds Dennis and feels his pulse and waits for him to kick him off and go on with their lives like this never happened, never _happens_, a continual thing they do and do and do over again even though Mac tells himself every time this is the last and cleans his soul every Sunday.

"Dude," Dennis says, sounding sleepy, and Mac pulls himself out of that black pit he's about to fall down. "Dude, that was great."

"Yeah," Mac agrees, settling back into Dennis's stomach. Dennis sounds wrecked; maybe they'll sleep like this, sore in a few hours when they wake up and the sun goes down.

They don't sleep; there's work to be done.

Mac wonders if the rest of the gang notices as Dennis leans down behind the bar a week or so later to get something, the flash of a thin blue strip.


End file.
